Penhaligon's The inimitable William Penhaligon: fragrance review

 Many of the original scents created by William Penhaligon were modernized and re-introduced as part of the Anthology Collection. The company maintains its commitment to fine, traditional perfume ingredients and techniques. The bottles for Penhaligon's scents are based on William Penhaligon's original design—clear glass and adorned with a ribbon.

pic via

This emblematic heritage is of course something most niche brands, even those proclaiming historical roots, cannot match. It was therefore expected that the company would sooner or later reference the patriarch himself. And so they did, with the newest fragrance, The Inimitable William Penhaligon.

With an above-average lasting power but a rather moderate sillage, the spicy-woody scent of The Inimitable William Penhaligon captures easily one's affections, as it's agreeable by most. For that reason it might seem a bit tame, for those expecting something flamboyant and domineering. Nevertheless, true to form, the scents of the aristocracy itself have never been very loud, as there is no raison d'être for them to be; their calling card is their, well, actual calling card.

The actual scent of The Inimitable William Penhaligon is well-mannered, sociable, milky with its lactonic heart of sandalwood and fig, and the more it stays on, the more pronounced this serene milkiness becomes. If I were to use one word it would be snugly. What I find most interesting is an unexpected green-milky slice in the middle, like that of a fig leaf erupting amidst the vetiver, with the sandalwood's soft qualities soon emerging over the greenness.

The company insists on calling it a vetiver scent, first and foremost, and the deep green liquid inside the bottle might indeed account for expectations of a bracing, pungent scent. But let me assure you this might ease its way into Vetivers for Vetiver-phobics effortlessly, as it lacks the dirty inclinations of vetiver oil and instead opts for a bright, bittersweet opening that quickly segues into the plush of the salon. There is also no discernible incense for the incense-phobics, so approach comfortably, as if you were to be greeted into a cedarwood-clad boutique. Mellow, soft, and silky, really.

Comfortable, sweetish on the drydown, and warm, The Inimitable William Penhaligon could easily be snatched out of the hands of your beloved man and sprayed with gusto onto yourself, dear female reader. Yes, most brands advertise as unisex these days, but it's not always the case; this one is effortlessly borrowed by either sex and projects quite classy at all times.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 

Penhaligon's fragrances reviews & news

Lactonic scents: what does it even mean?

Perfumery Material Fig: Between Green Woody and Succulent

Top Vetiver Fragrances

Oriflame Mirage: fragrance review

One of the few and far in between fragrances composed by Françoise Caron for Oriflame (as per the company's official info), Mirage had the stunning visuals to turn heads even before smelling its intense "magical broth" scent. The intensely green bottle and the red-haired heroine representing it, dressed in emerald flowing gowns (red enhancing the green) had me salivating even before holding the lovely rollerball vials they used to make and trying it on my own skin with all the apprehension reserved for ritualized experiences.

This most striking of colors, green being the color of horror movies and sorceresses' brews, is taken for a wild ride in Mirage. The peppery, mysterious and lush smell of vetiver and sticky, sweetly spicy peppery resins engulf its core of dark, gothic rose with thorns attached. One can almost feel the ache of those "pricked thumbs" and the foreboding of [the] "wicked [which] our way comes" as per Macbeth's second witch's famous lines. But unlike Lady Macbeth you won't long to wash it off your hands, if it catches your heart. And it very well might, unless you're of the gourmands and fruity florals brigade, in which case step away like hordes of Huns are stampeding down your path.

Unusual for Oriflame fragrances Mirage was very potent and with a high sillage, making it a true love-it-or-hate-it perfume. And I say "was" because it is discontinued. In the hopes of having it re-introduced, even under another name, I am writing this elegy of its emerald-hued heart of darkness.

A Vetiver Crisis Averted?

IFF and Unilever Launch Partnership to Improve the Lives of Vetiver Farming Communities in Haiti

Collaboration with Oxfam Great Britain, Heifer International and the Ford Foundation Delivers a Strategic Social Investment

LES CAYES, Haiti--(BUSINESS WIRE)--Regulatory News:

International Flavors & Fragrances Inc. and Unilever announced today a new partnership with leading non-governmental organizations to enhance the livelihoods of smallholder vetiver farmers in Haiti. The partnership, Vetiver Together, aims to sustainably improve food security, increase yields, and diversify income, while working to support women’s empowerment and environmental conservation. 

Vetiver oil is a common ingredient in many fragrances and an important crop for Unilever, found in brands such as Axe and Impulse. Haiti produces some of the best vetiver in the world, and many farmers rely on cultivation of the root for their entire source of income. But, due to economic pressures, farmers often harvest the roots before they are fully mature, leading to low prices, poor oil yields, deforestation and soil erosion. The partnership will help farmers address these challenges as well as provide training to community members - including in crop and livestock production, soil conservation and nutrition - to help improve social conditions and diversity of farm production and food security. 

The project is a strategic social investment that recognizes that improving smallholder and community livelihoods and strengthening the Haitian vetiver supply chain are mutually beneficial. It is supported by the Enhancing Livelihoods Fund – a partnership between Unilever, Oxfam Great Britain, and the Ford Foundation which backs innovative models to improve agricultural practices and have a positive social impact, particularly for women.

“IFF relies on small farming communities for many natural products. These farmers, their families, and communities are an important part of our supply chain,” said Andreas Fibig, Chairman and CEO of IFF. “Sustainability is a key enabler of our Vision2020 business strategy, and this partnership is the embodiment of one of our key sustainability strategies, Sensational People, in which we engage our employees and stakeholders to make a positive difference in the world.” 

“Sustainability is integral to how we do business at Unilever – we aim to enhance the social and economic livelihoods of millions of smallholder farmers in our supply chain,” said Dhaval Buch, Chief Procurement Officer of Unilever. “Creating a more resilient supply chain is essential to make real impact on the ground. Partnerships, like Vetiver Together, are instrumental if we are to achieve the level of systematic change that is necessary across industries and supply chains.” 

Heifer International will implement the project and provide access to livestock which delivers both an additional food source and diversified income through products that can be bartered and sold at market.

“Livestock is a vehicle to support families and communities, provide highly nutritious foods, empower women, and manage economic risk,” said Pierre Ferrari, CEO of Heifer International. “Coupling livestock with improvements in the quality of the vetiver crop through optimized conservation practices makes Vetiver Together a true example of the good that can happen when multi-stakeholder partnerships are managed and executed with care.” 

“The Enhancing Livelihood Fund is particularly interested in supporting Unilever suppliers develop new business models that improve conditions for women, workers and smallholders in an innovative way. We have learnt from previous work, suppliers play a critical role.” said David Bright, Head of Economic Justice of Oxfam GB. “This is why Oxfam together with Unilever and the Ford Foundation set up the Fund to support Unilever suppliers.”

Information via

http://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20160714005922/en/

Berdoues Cologne Grand Cru Selva do Brazil: fragrance review

You emptied the soapy suds onto the polished wooden floorboards by accident, knocking the full bucket in one tug of the broom. The planks got soaked, a mess all around, hair on end, screaming.
I later apologized. You were furious I held this against you. "We're building a nest, baby", you said. Made me feel small, so small; not a feeling I often get. I don't know if it was your tone or the comforting soapy feel, recalling new beginnings, but I allowed myself to feel optimistic.

Wearing Selva do Brazil feels small, so small, and comforting in an optimistic way. The soap, the woodiness, the polished woodplanks, the summer air all around, the vetiver cologne in the distance, at the crook of your neck. It just felt like home. And I was sold.

Perfectly shareable, leaning slightly masculine, more than Maison Berdoues Scorza di Sicilia, but pleasantly borrowed by women. If you like subtle woody scents, this is for you. Beautiful bottle too, as usual.

A note on terminology: Though "cologne" might evoke either short lasting power or a masculine effect I assure you that it's a rather decent eau de toilette duration scent that could be worn by either men or women in warm weather (I suspect it'd get drowned in the cold).

Berdoues Cologne Grand Cru "Scorza di Sicilia": fragrance review

Maison Berdoues is well known for their classic violet fragrance, Violettes de Toulouse, as de rigeur retro as a finicky collector would demand of their collection. But modernization, and Scorza di Sicilia is part of that project, is the name of the game for an old company to survive the times. Berdoues have been busy producing a collection of colognes, called grand cru to reflect wine phraseology, in order to catch the attention of the niche buying perfume lovers with an eye to heritage.

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There's a dearth of fragrance reviews in the year that has been put between the original release of the grand cru colognes, 2015, and today, so I took it upon myself to write some on them having tested the line in detail recently. And so I'm beginning with Scorza di Sicilia, i.e. Sicilian rind. 

Contrary to the gorgeous sliced citruses painted on the columnar bottles (truly nice in person as well as in the photos) Scorza di Sicilia is not about citrus per se, even though the citrus is perceptible throughout. In fact the scent's character is quite floral indeed, taking lily of the valley as the sharp floral note that assembles the references that an Italian summer fragrance would normally evoke: the sun, the breeze, the lightness, the clarity...We all need a slice of sunshine in our lives, don't we.

Lily of the valley with its sharpness, clean aspect and green underpinning can act as an effortless bond between the bergamot top note (a Calabrian, if not Sicilian, reference) and the grassy-woody coolness of the vetiver of the base. I suspect white musk makes for the same cohesive glue, giving Maison Berdoues Scorza di Sicilia the starched, fresh aura that makes it so very amenable to a hot day somewhere where the houses are white-washed and the roofs tiled rather than thatched.

A note on terminology: Though "cologne" might evoke either short lasting power (and citruses are notorious for that) or a masculine effect I assure you that neither is applicable in this case. It's a rather decent eau de toilette duration scent that could be worn by either men or women in warm weather (I suspect it'd get drowned in the cold).

The Case for a Good Drag of Smoke: Korres Premium II L'Eau de Parfum

Poor Jon Hamm had to smoke 74 herbal cigarettes in the pilot of Mad Men alone, such is our modern shunning of smoking, even more so on screen, where it's strictly seen as "period work." And yet ... You can do lots of things with a cigarette on hand: gain time, use that sharp intake of smoke as a decisive battle cry, fill that hanging silence of exhaling with something to look into, occupy your hands, offer to light a damsel-in-distress's own cigarette ... smoking has its own language and codes.

Which nicely brings me to our matter at hand. A gorgeous tobacco fragrance for men. Those old-cut ones, like Richard Widmark. Widmark looked quite a bit like my own grandfather, who wore Tabac Original by Mauer & Wirtz; there's poetic justice in the lives of perfumephiles, you see.

via

Thus goes my review of the Premium II L'Eau de Parfum by Greek brand Korres. Issued in late 2014 and among the very good surprises of the beginning of this year, I realize that it's not exactly summer material (though you could wear it, why not), more of a flannel suit and fedora hat affair, yet it beckoned last week when the heatwave made everything smell so very intensely that I was sure I was either smelling fragrances from three blocks away or experiencing a case of phantosmia (sensing phantom smells). Please find my full review of this beautiful tobacco and woods cologne on this link. As always you're welcome to comment either here or there or both.

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Les Pluriels Masculin and Feminin: fragrance reviews

This coming September star perfumer Francis Kurkdjian is launching a duet of scents, Feminin and Masculin in Les Pluriels, for his eponymous brand. I have sampled both and have lived to tell the tale, which is a good one, if not highly original (even within his private niche line). The story is just published on Fragrantica, more of which below, and you're welcome to comment either there or here.

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Basically Kurkdjian isn't traitorous to what he sets out to do, he considers perfumery more of an artistic craft than high art and believes in the concept of the fragrance wardrobe; his brand is meant to have something for every occasion (for the light "cologne" type for morning to the lush out animalics for intimate soirees) , so the newest diptych fits there comfortable. The bit that is perhaps more difficult to catch is the "eternal feminine" and "eternal masculine" he sets out to accomplish; tall order, especially because no one seems to agree on set parameters on those. After all, it's all a matter of semiotics, external signs for easy communication of a desired message and men and women are just themselves ~men and women. They're not defined by the jodhpurs they choose, the T-shirt and its bow neck or V-neck skimming breasts or not. They're not defined by the cut of their jeans (see "boyfriend's jeans"). They're not even defined by their added fragrance (read our Gender Bending Fragrances article if in doubt).

Feminin Pluriel has a very distinct progression like the passage of colors in the arc. The carrot impression of the iris hits you first, welcome solace from the overdone pink grapefruit /pink pepper or so much modern juice out there, setting the motion for the violet which follows on the skin very very soon. This note, a ubiquitous and perfect complement to both the rooty iris and the woody notes to follow, seems to meld into jasmine and a honeyed abstract orange blossom (reminiscent of its fore-bearers), comprising the main dish. This is further floralized by benzyl salicylate, a very popular ingredient boosting the "solar," luminous aspects of a scent. The cascading of the notes is so noticeable and so distinct that it's as if one ticks off the notes off a list or is watching a race course with the runners passing the baton to one another. Kurkdjian is no stranger to iris-violety things, given a sheer and non-powdery spin, lifting them from their traditional greyish mauve plumage befitting a solemn occasion via cheerful accents; witness his Iris Nobile for Acqua di Parma, surely the most optimistic and light-hearted iris floral out there.

The woody musky backdrop in Feminin Pluriel is engulfing a rose-citrus molecule (indeed, geraniol which has facets hinting at bergamot, rose, other citruses and carrot —the analogue of iris—so it all fits together, hand in glove) and feels as smooth and indefinable as the base in his rose-centered "nouveau chypres" (modern Rumeur, Guerlain Rose Barbare, Rose de Siwa and less so in the less rosy ones such as Narciso for Her and Elie Saab Le parfum). It fits his canon! Picture perfect pretty, in a (public side) Grace Kelly sort of style, maybe too pretty for its own good.

You can read my full review on this link.

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Regarding Masculin Pluriel, I feel a clear progression from smoky, lightly citrusy vetiver to lavender fougère and on to leathery-smelling patchouli. It's as if the man you wake up to (after a romp in the sheets) jumps up to wash and groom to go to the office and have his "power meetings" before heading out to a private club in the evenings to indulge in a little light S&M, yourself included or not. Schizophrenic? No, just multi-layered, shadow and light, like people are, in fact. Ironic too, because the cleanness of Masculin Pluriel is overreaching like a giant fig leaf hiding the family jewels. The coolness of lavender in Masculin clutches itself to the cooler aspects of patchouli (both sharing a minty facet) echoing one another. It's also a balanced bittersweet fragrance (not sweet like Le Male); one would be fooled to think it's only plush and lush and shaven to a glistening six-pack fit for a glossy magazine…

Although not a chest-thumping kind of a scent (nor an animalic-smelling Jicky full to the brim with civet), the spicy-metallic roughness of a more traditionally rugged mien in Masculin hints at a guy who doesn't shave said pectorals and dons the occasional leather trousers that have seen some wear and tear.

You can read my full review on this link.

Jean Couturier Coriandre: fragrance review & history

Coriandre by Jean Couturier first piqued my interest when I read Susan Irvine's description of it: "fit for a red headed Raymond Chandler heroine". Which means I sorta came late to it, considering Irvine was quoted saying it in her 2000 book. Perfume Shrine has long worshipped at the altar of film noir heroines and their universe and this was like a bowl of cream in front of a hungry kitten: irresistible!

via aromo.ru

Trying it out on my own skin after years of loving chypre fragrances I was struck by its discretion. Subtle and refined, it didn't speak of the femme fatale so much, but of a patchouli and geranium wreath around roses of a dark red hue, an elegant missile of indoors denotation. Contrary to its name, Coriandre doesn't predominantly smell of coriander (which has a herbaceous scent reminiscent of sweet oranges, lightly spicy), although there is discernible spiciness to it that does not recall the culinary. The green pong of angelica makes it dry and somehow young despite appearances to the contrary.

Jacqueline Couturier

Created in 1973 by Couturier's own wife Jacqueline, who was Grasse-trained and an heir to perfumers, Coriandre was the foundation on which the Couturier Parfums brand was established. Couturier wasn't a budding designer, on the contrary. Having began his career at Saint Laurent, he self-proclaims to have been involved in the development of both Y perfume and Rive Gauche fragrance. Whatever the story is, his wife has indeed worked in the fragrant sector, the daughter and grand-daughter of perfumers, one of the few women in this field at the time.

Coriandre comes in a bottle topped by a green malachite-looking cap, beautifully veined, an image reflected in the packaging. The 1990s slogan was stressing its classy demeanor: Habillez-vous "boutique", parfumez-vous "Couturier" (A playful wordplay on the designer's name, roughly translated as "Dress High Street, but perfume yourself haute couture). Another publicity from the 1970s extolled its mysterious freshness: "all the scents of the evening and already the freshness of the night". And then there is the typically French, typically mischievous -on so many levels- advertisement I have put at the top of this fragrance review, a woman sitting on a chair with her shirt ripped off at the shoulder, tagged "Coriandre, the perfume which makes you question the value of civilization". [whoah? pretty racy, eh?]

If I were head of their advertising department today I'd suggest they stress its uniqueness in a sea of Armanis, Flowerbombs and DKNYs. Little known, but contrary to many classic chypre perfumes's aesthetic not "old fashioned smelling" enough to deter a younger clientele, although it certainly doesn't do any favors to those raised on candy floss scents. This is exactly why I'm including it in my Underrated Perfume Day feature on PerfumeShrine, a regular column highlighting little known but worthwhile fragrances which are still in production, so if you're taking notes, take a note now.

Coriandre by Jean Couturier has been a little surgically enhanced compared to the 1973 vintage (this happened in 1993, circulating as Parfum de toilette), but it didn't involve a complete face-lift which is good news to its acolytes. Consider yourself honored and not humbled to be included in the latter. If you like the original Agent Provocateur eau de parfum in the pink ostrich egg bottle, you have good chances of finding a good companion in Couturier's Coriandre.

via vagdistri.com

Available from newsparfums.com and other etailers for reasonable prices. Careful, there is also Eau de Coriandre, a different scent, not just a different concentration, from 1996.

Official fragrance notes for Coriandre:
Top: Coriander, Aldehydes, Angelica, Bergamot, Orange blossom
Middle: Rose, Geranium, Jasmine, Orris, Ylang Ylang, Lily
Base: Patchouli, Sandal, Vetiver, Oakmoss, Civet

Sammarco Vitrum: fragrance review & introduction to the Sammarco brand

Sammarco is an artisanal line based in Appenzel, Switzerland, founded by Giovanni Sammarco, a genuine lover of fine perfume and premium quality raw materials who set up his own shop and now caters to all those who want a very special, bespoke fragrance or to get their hands on some of the choicest and less available perfumery materials for their own blends or scent education. I have been fortunate to have sampled some of the wares of Sammarco, both finished fragrances and raw materials, and I'm impressed by the quality; real animalics, precious ingredients, everything shining and awing with the sheen of natural, genuine essences, heaps of real jasmine, gorgeous cacao absolute, authentic orris butter, smooth osmanthus, lovely liquerish rose….

Right now Sammarco offers three ready made perfumes: Alter (a gorgeous jasmine floriental to which I will revert later on), Bond T (a real dark chocolate gourmand that was conceived after a visit to a chocolatier in Pisa, Italy) and Vitrum, a vetiver woody made for a journalist friend of Giovanni, named Federica. They're all lovely, with Vitrum perhaps spanning the spectrum on gender specifics best. So I'm starting with that one today.

Vitrum belongs in that class of fragrances that are immediately likable by everyone, exactly because it focuses on a beloved material which although always intensely itself it hides nuances of talent beyond its recognizability and genre factor. Like a Vincent Price of a character, it has the drama of its coolish and smoky demeanor, all rugged and beautifully boomy voiced, but it is softened by the magic of sentiment; rose and pepper bring forth antithetical virtues, much like a soft fairy tale of Edward Scissorhands can bring a tear in our eye and a smile in our heart. It's as surprising to find a gentler side to the craggy profile of the master of sinister as finding out he was an art historian and an avid cook who started his career as the romantic lead, which is totally true.
Likewise, we're conditioned to view vetiver woody fragrances as perfect for the heat of summer (and indeed vetiver is used in India for its cooling properties) but I find that the smokiness and bold spiciness (with a hint of a wintery, tempest petrol green sea spray) makes an overcast, brumous winter day feel like a precious gift.

Vitrum is available on the Sammarco e-shop for 130CH. (There are several paying options and you will have to contact the company to see if there are any shipping restrictions if you're worried).

To tie this all up and conclude. Regarding the bespoke fragrance option, it's all fine and dandy as an idea, and if you have been following Perfume Shrine you know we have touched on the subject here and there, but the major stumbling obstacle for most is the initial cost: one can't just have a formula made and only order a single bottle with most perfumers offering this special service. Giovanni cleverly thought about this and bypassed it in one fell swoop as he offers the Sammarco Mini-Bespoke service. For just 600CH you can have one bottle of your specially made perfume, created for you and with you! I call this genius, don't you?

Le Labo Cuir 28 (Dubai exclusive): fragrance review

What took Le Labo a couple of years to go from announcing Cuir 28 to actually launching it? It's as yet undivulged. Smelling the recently launched fragrance my mind is reeling into a fantasy of Chanel's Sycomore with leather and vanilla. Looks fabulous on paper but in practice it doesn't quite work as intended. Possibly because it looks like two disjointed parts, reminiscent of those kid's toys in which two rolls with images cut in half join at the middle to give you a giraffe's neck with lion's legs or a ballerina with the head of a Hell's Angel. In fact the parable of the latter isn't far removed from the reality of the latest Le Labo Dubai exclusive, Cuir 28.

via thinkgeek.com

Le Labo presents their leather fragrance as "Easy Rider without the sweat and gasoline — blending leather, wood and animal notes to give it a very powerful, dark and memorable personality" Specifically they mention natural vanilla absolute, leather notes (a synthetic base), woods (vetiver), animal notes (ambrox), and musks (muscenone).

Although the opening is jolting for anyone who considers the modern representatives of the "cuir" genre being cuddly and purring kittens like Guerlain Cuir Beluga or other suede fragrances (indeed these lean more to oriental than true leather scents), or spoiled by the plush iris note of Chanel Cuir de Russie, Cuir 28 is an exercise in illusion, an unusual and intriguing composition. Much like Tubereuse Criminelle before it, it hides beneath the shocking prelude a sensitive ballad. In Cuir 28 that ballad is played on the wooden wind instruments: a vanilla oboe and a vetiver clarinet, filling its other's phrases with a bridge in legato. The perfume's opening, smoky, tar-like, phenolic smelling with a touch of that cult Goutal, Eau du Fier and Band Aid worthy (oudh) pungency, isn't particularly animalic smelling, nor is it especially musky scented, but it can be a bit masculine and butch all the same. Wait about 15 minutes though (applying on the skin) and the rest of the composition in Cuir 28 becomes a sweetened vetiver scent, clean and comfortable and really fetching with its very perceptible vanilla. (Possibly there are more synthetic wood notes, like sandalwood, which provide some plush after the thrash.)
The comforting part has been a recent favorite for Le Labo judging from their Moscow exclusive, the extremely hard to come by Benjoin 19. Which beckons the question: Is the East succumbing to a Western taste?

Nevertheless, as is not uncommon with fragrances in the upper echelons of the pricing range, especially when they require a concentrated effort to get hold of as well, the dedicated perfumista might find that the effect is not worth the asking price in the end. Although I have been known to deem at least two of the Le Labo city exclusives, Poivre 23 and Gaiac 10, as worth the jumping through hoops  (and have Mastercard-in-hand capitulated to one), I realize this also has to do with personal preferences, and if you're delirious about leather or vetiver, Cuir 28 is still very worth sampling and I'm glad I tested it; my sample saw good use indeed. Among the city exclusives -and the regular line as well- Cuir 28 is certainly NOT amongst the worst (Limette 27 is probably the dullest), yet it leaves me with a feeling of a missed opportunity. I'd like it turned up a notch.

Fragrance notes for Le Labo Cuir 28: leather, vanilla absolute, woody notes, vetiver and musk.
Le Labo Cuir 28 is exclusively available at Dubai as a city exclusive according to the brand, only the place that was supposed to stock it there (Paris Galley in the Dubai Mall) is closed and until something else opens (which Le Labo informs us it shall), the perfume is nowhere to be found. Fate has no doubt been harsh to Cuir 28...

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: The Leather Fragrance Series, Le Labo Fragrance Reviews & News

Le Labo Limette 37 (San Francisco exclusive): fragrance review

One of my better English teachers was a longtime resident of San Francisco; in fact she had met her husband in the City by the Bay, which, given the place's gaydar and the couple's subsequent breakup -due to his not wanting children, ever- might have been an ominous sign she might have noticed beforehand. But the fact remains -and I was reminded of it recently coming across Limette 37 by Le Labo- that I was tenderly and gingerly spoon-fed from a very young age the pure magic that this most cinematic of American cities presents: the Golden Bay bridge, the roads going up & down, perfect for car chase scenes such as in Bullitt, Basic Instinct and Jade, the small cafes, the buildings charmingly retro (and almost never do they hide a wacko like in Pacific Heights), the fishermen and the earthquakes (that last bit so eerily familiar to my Greek existence that I felt like kin) and of course the dolly zoom distorted views from Vertigo...Ah, my heart sighs.

Come to think of it, and with the eyes of a foreigner, it's always amazing how much a film depiction of a place creates an impression that is different and yet at the same time somehow captive of its innermost charm (Admit it, didn't any of you fall all over in love again with London upon watching this scene from The Parent Trap with the lovely The Las song in the background? OK, I digress, but...)
So, if like me you have always dreamt of San Francisco as an impossible ectoplasm rather than a real place you can step your foot on, you might have had higher expectations from a fragrance sold exclusively there. You might have even though it would "represent" this eidolon, though obviously Le Labo didn't (and wouldn't) go there. {The folks state it so ever so clearly on their site, man: "Don't expect Le Labo's San Francisco exclusive to be a chilly summer fog essence or the Golden Gate in a bottle. Limette 37's reference to The City is abstract"}

Limette 37 is certainly not unpleasant; in fact it is quite pleasant indeed (and absolutely unisex in feel) and I bet it would go down well with lots of people and have random folks pronounce "you smell good!" blah blah blah. The opening is nicely cologne-y with bergamot and petit-grain, slightly bitter and surprisingly softened with coolish vetiver. A small segment of warmth is peeping through, a touch of spice, a little sweetness reminding me of innocent linden flowers, just so. Upon drying down Limette 37 reveals lots of subtle, creamy clean musks that have a humming tenacity (and which are almost the only thing left at the mark of 2 hours's wear, perfect cover-up if you have seriously embraced the hippie "naturalness" popular in SF in the 1960s if you know what I mean, and a pain in the butt if you require your expensive perfumes to smell for longer than that).

My gripe is that you can probably achieve that effect with lots of other scents on the market (see our Skin Scents article for more fragrance suggestions, including some from the same company), without forking the big bucks for an exclusive release, nor having to jump through hoops to get to San Francisco to buy this latest Le Labo fragrance. In fact being sandwiched into the summer 2013 release trio by Le Labo, the other two being the excellent Ylang 49 and Lys 41, Limette 37 is even more leaving something to be desired.

For that reason, Limette 37 can't go into my "must own" list. Whether it will go into yours is a question of means (in both senses of the word) vs. opportunity. Currently and only up till October 15th, the Le Labo city exclusives are available online at the Le Labo site.

Official notes for Le Labo Limette 37: bergamot, petit-grain, jasmine, clove, vetiver, musk, tonka bean.

For those paying attention to visuals: stills are (of course) from top to bottom from the films Bullitt, Jade, Vertigo and Basic Instinct. I decided to use some of the less predictable shots from those (opting for black & white in two cases), in order to convey the non representative nature of it all. The scent is nothing like the reputation of either film and is its own thing. I just plead to be allowed to have my fun, that's all. 

Acqua di Parma Colonia: Fragrance Review & Giveaway of Luxurious Body Products Set

It had been ages since I had last smelled the refined herbal, acrid top notes of Acqua di Parma's cologne, atavistically named Colonia and encased in the sunniest crocus yellow this side of the earth's "omphalos". (Seriously, if there's one shade in the beauty business packaging to rival Hermes's coveted orange and Tiffany's delicate robin-egg blue, it's Aqua di Parma's yellow; a true trademark). It was the mid-1990s, I recall, when I was first taken with the "niche" circuit and when coincidentally Diego della Valle decided to rescue not only driving shoes (establishing the famous Tod's loafer) but also credible Italian cologne resold as a refined commodity since at least the times of Jean Marie Farina. Acqua di Parma was immediately eye-catching but it was the simple, to the point elegance of subtlety (fragrance wearing for the pleasure of fragrance wearing -not announcing any deep and meaningful messages about one's self importance) which cinched the deal. My first bottle found its rightful place on my vanity. The rest is history.

via

In Alfie, the modern version of the film from 2004, this is all Jude Law, devastatingly charming*, with a full head of hair thank you very much and ruining his marriage with the help of Sienna Miller, used to have on his bathroom shelf: Acqua di Parma Colonia. And who can blame him**? Apparently the scent scored, as scads of females were hankering for his guiles, Susan Sarandon in all her mature knowingness no less. The cineaste reference isn't without peer: reportedly both Ava Gardner and Cary Grant liked and wore Acqua di Parma's classic cologne in the 1930s. Today you can feel like a movie star when stepping out of the bath of any 5 star hotel in the world where Acqua di Parma bath and body products are a sine qua non.

The story of Acqua di Parma goes like this: In 1916 Master perfumers created a new fragrance in a small laboratory in Parma using natural ingredients. It was an unusually fresh and modern fragrance – the first true Italian Cologne. Today Acqua di Parma is still true to its heritage. The fragrances and the packaging are still both hand-designed and Acqua di Parma is an iconic symbol of the refined, exclusive, and purest Italian lifestyle.

via 

The brilliance of Colonia by Acqua di Parma lies in the intensely sunny, succulent marriage of both sweet orange rind essence and bitter orange notes (citrus aurantia from which neroli, petit-grain and orange blossom absolute derive) to the soapy mossiness of the base; it gives a genuinely chyprish scent nuance, evocative of tall cypresses, proudly standing against Tuscany winds, with a backdrop of lemony verbena, delicate rose and a hint of patchouli, like spots of sienna tiles and stuccoed walls silhouetted serenely in the distance. It's enough to shed away your winter stressed shell and bask in the Italian sunshine Ava-style. Who in their right mind could ask for more?

Notes for Acqua di Parma Colonia:
Bergamot, Citrus, Lemon, Bitter Orange, Sweet Orange, English Lavender, Bulgarian or Damascene Rose, Verbena, Clary Sage, Rosemary, Cedarwood, Patchouli, Sandalwood, Vetiver, Oakmoss.

For our readers, we have a luxe gift set of Colonia bath & shower gel, hair conditioner and body lotion in the glorious yellow boxes and bags. Please enter a comment to be eligible. Draw is open internationally till Wednesday midnight. Winner to be announced sometime in Thursday.

*it is my personal quirk that I prefer his portrayal of the murderer photographer in the grim & great  Road to Perdition...don't mind me.
** this film still tells you all about the intended audience of the product placement

In the interests of disclosure, I was given the set via a PR opportunity. 

Neela Vermeire Creations Trayee: fragrance review

Incense has long been not only one of the badges of niche perfumery, but also one of my own personal hot buttons, so it sounds both logical and anticipatory that a fledging niche line would want to include a declination of the genre in their wares. But when said genre is harnessed by perfumers of the calibre of Bertrand Duchaufour and infused with the phantasmagoria which must be Neela Vermeire's  creativity  then the resulting fragrance feels the way a kanchipuram saree looks: intricate, ever changing effect when the journey of the light, beautiful. Trayee (pronounced try-ee) is much more than an incense blend, which is no mean feat, given that incense is a difficult material to work with in the first place. But its intricate treatment must endear it to aficionados.

via wikimedia commons

Trayee is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Mohur and Bombay Bling (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. With Trayee rooted in the Vedic tradition (and utilizing several of the materials mentioned in the holy texts) I was instantly brought back to my university freshman year, when World Civilization was on the agenda under a highly idiosyncratic professor, himself the embodiment of intertextuality & erudition. That was the time when I briefly entertained the idea of learning Sanskrit, though it soon transpired it'd be full time job. But such was the pull that the the Sutras and the Ramayana and their colorful, conflicted and spiritual world had exerted on me and some of my fellow students.

I'm saying all this to atone for coming extremely late to the buzz around Neela Vermeire's creations, having had compartmentalized the perfumes in the "one day" mental drawer. That day came when Neela and I reconnected via Twitter. I say "reconnected" because Neela was, like me, part of the old guard of Makeup Alley: she has a genuinely lovely personality that leaps off the page and a deep knowledge of the Paris perfume scene where she used to organize visiting trips for perfumephiles.
All this intro would read like an apologetic text on a personal blog placating her feelings, had the fragrances been duds; but they assuredly are NOT duds -far from it. Not only are they intellectually stimulating and multi-nuanced, they combine the rich tapestry of colors that is the Indian peninsula with a very Parisian sensibility. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.

Trayee is much more than a simple incense blend, fusing the mystical with the sensual and the cerebral, like a trimūrti framework for the divine. This is reflected via the "notes" chosen for Trayee which comprise a wide spectrum, from the bittersweet facets of myrrh & musty oud, to the tried & true Indian fusion of sandalwood and jasmine all the way through the stimulating piquancy of spicy, stimulating notes (rich in eugenol). There is a dusty, grassy, cannabis-herbal accord which is close to the muddy feel of Timbuktu for L'Artisan Parfumeur, also by Duchaufour; not surprisingly, the interplay of earthy spices, mysterious blossoms and murrh & vetiver are present in both. Trayee comes across as somehow muskier, leathery, with a more peppery tang and a fully executed resinous, balsamic arc that recalls the smokiness of Annick Goutal's Encens Flamboyant. Trayee feels like rivulets of sweetish white smoke rising from a polished ceramic basin unto the blue skies, its dissipation unto the air gradual and mind-altering.



Neela Vermeire Creations Trayee notes:
Blue ginger, elemi, cinnamon, ganja accord, blackcurrant absolute, basil, jasmine sambac, Egyptian jasmine, cardamom absolute, clove, saffron, Javanese and Haitian vetiver, incense, Mysore sandalwood oil, patchouli, myrrh, vanilla, cedar, amber notes, oud palao from Laos, oak moss.

Trayee is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set.

Disclosure: I was sent a sample by Neela. 

Creed Green Irish Tweed (1985): Fragrance Review

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

 This is my tenth year, in various capacities, within the fragrance industry. One does not come this far without hearing a tall tale or two over the years. Some printable; some unfortunately aren’t. Thus imagine my amusement a few years ago when George Clooney’s negotiation for fragrance licensing with Coty fell through, in part, because the asking fee was $30 million dollars.

Now don’t get me wrong: I’m sure Clooney had his sound rationales, and $30 million dollars would surely come in handy when buying a more secluded villa in Lake Como, with the privacy he had sorely missed when vacationing. With this being said it’s doubtful that I would need a copy of bottled George in the first place, for when I am compelled to take after the leading man —along with other cultural icons such as David Beckham, Russell Crowe, Pierce Brosnan, among others— I pull out my copy of Green Irish Tweed.

actor David Kelly in his green irish tweeds

Officially Green Irish Tweed was created by master perfumer Pierre Bourdon for yet another leading man among leading men —Cary Grant. The chronology gets fuzzy beyond this point, however. He supposedly used it, though Grant would kick the bucket within a year after the fragrance introduction. Carbon dating the scent through its olfactory blueprint would be somewhat futile in this case, for it’s a green aromatic fougère that subtly influenced the masculine market for years, pointing to the future rather than its past. (But more on that later.)

Timeless doesn’t even begin to describe this scent, for Green Irish Tweed is working incredibly well for men of all ages. Just like the same Shakespearean passage could be interpreted so many different mannerisms and contexts, Green Irish Tweed somehow manages to give off a different spark in different situations: on a young lad, the vibrant and brash green opening; on a middle-aged businessman, the all-purpose aromatic earnest; and the golden men, the classic fougère base. That’s not to say that GIT lacks character, as it opens with a bracing rush of green and citrus elements such as lemon verbena. True to namesake fabric the nuances from the crunchy green really maintain the requisite masculine ruggedness; it’s as if one is meeting a true aristocrat, but instead of in the drawing room of his ancestral home it’s a chance meeting right before his polo match, brimming with confidence and vigor. Somehow I suspect geranium is in the mix, having picked up its presence among other similarly structured colognes, yet it’s not listed in the official notes: instead we have an interesting bunch consisting of violet leaves and vetiver making rounds before settling on the aforementioned fougère base along with sandalwood, ambergris and modern musk. Iris is in the mix too, although truth be told I still cannot decide its place: Creed lists it as a top note, whereas it's more of a heart note to my nose.

Now at this point readers with a modern olfactory palette would need some contexts before smelling this fragrance for the first time, for its idioms have been widely utilized ever since. The bookends of this fragrance, the green and the fougère, was to me referenced in Chanel Platinum Egoiste (1993), albeit in an arguably more acrid, slightly more high-pitched incarnation. Of course, Bourdon would also famously reprise the structural integrity of GIT by plugging in Calone into the mix, producing the watershed Cool Water for Men in 1988, just three short years after the release of the Creed.

Comparing Green Irish Tweed with Cool Water for Men is indeed a gentlemen pursuit worth partaking, for the differences are quite interesting. To me GIT is gentler in character, less intrusive than its marine sibling. Both perform quite well in diffusion and sillage, although Cool Water for Men balances out the freshness from Calone with a more assertive base in my humble opinion. Now much has been said about the use of Calone, the synthetic chemical first discovered by Pfizer in 1966 but left on the shelves for decades due to its bizarre slant: in high concentration its scent has been described as oyster like! Yet at a lower pitch it gives off a fresh marine impression with, depending on the context, melon or cucumber with a slightly saline dent. Yet Calone isn’t the magic pill within Cool Water for Men, as its similarities with the Creed imply. Of course, the Davidoff is more budget conscious, done with broader brush brushstrokes, but Bourdon’s signature touches are decidedly present in both. After all, the instrument alone doesn’t make a concert: neither in perfumery does the overdose of a novel ingredient take away from the thought process. We also pay for the perfumer’s time, not just for the sum of the bottled ingredients.

One notable difference, however: GIT layers very well with other masculine scents, not only with eaux de colognes but also quite interestingly with MUMAs. Because it doesn’t come in deodorants I tend to combine it with Terre d'Hermès deodorant stick. Mind you, I have even layered it beautifully with Chergui by Serge Lutens, with Chergui at the base and GIT right above, though looking back the combination is a tad assertive for my taste, fortifying the amber of the Lutens to an opulent, diffusive place I don’t normally venture—but then again conventional rules are out of the door at Lutens; I just dare not go that far.

For more information please refer to Creed’s official website.

The Different Company Bois d’Iris: Fragrance Review

Yes, this is my copy of Bois d’Iris—right up to the obtuse notch on the top left corner of the box upon yours truly’s overzealous unwrapping—yet in all honestly after a few years I still haven’t figured out a proper place for master perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena’s creation.

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

photo copyright: AlbertCAN (used with permission)

Is it the subject matter? Hardly. Iris is one of my preferred olfactory subjects of exploration. (Apparently so does the US Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour, as the owners of Aedes de Venustas told Chandler Burr: "Dolce and Gabbana came in for a thank-you gift for Anna Wintour. She likes irises, so we loaded her basket with iris candles, iris soaps, iris room sprays, and decorated it with fresh irises.") Could it then be the compositional philosophy? Quite the opposite: many readers of this space and my humble blog would know that I have been a keen observer of Ellena’s aesthetics for years now. The quality of the ingredients is also evident from the first moment to the last, the packaging from The Different Company impeccable. So what makes it just short of being a clincher?

An epiphany striked through upon composing this review: it’s in the name. Bois d’Iris (not to be confused with Van Cleef & Arpel’s subsequent release under its niche Collection Extraordinaire line) is exactly what the title suggests: it’s more of a manifestation of woods within iris.

Let’s not to imply that Ellena skimped on costs here: the pricy iris concrete is used here and its effect is evident. For the purpose of composing this review I have pulled out my batch of iris to compare. Indeed the concrete is at the depth of this work, forming an earthy, damp, slightly tunnelled ambiance at the back end. The iris used in Bois d’Iris creates a smooth and silken effect, while displaying all typical facets of the material: the floral violets, the dark gourmands, the dry woods. And because iris concrete just by itself lacks the diffusional standards for modern perfumery Ellena here has chosen to bolster the material with alpha-isomethyl ionone, a material having a diffusive, powdery impression of violets and its slightly chalkier analogue—you’ve guessed it—iris. At this point I should point out that the duo of iris and alpha-isomethyl ionone also form the backbone of Hermès Hiris, yet whereas Olivia Giacobetti’s composition lightens up the cornerstone with carrot and almond wood, Bois d’Iris veers into another direction.

A few years back I had the fortune of communicating with Octavian Coifan about subtle ways of emphasizing iris within a composition, and he mentioned that vetiver or even cedar would be good options. While Chanel 28 La Pausa, another iris fragrance, has vetiver at its base, Bois d’Iris is firmly in the cedarwood territory. And the heart of the composition is filled with narcissus and aspects of geranium: the rosy geraniol and citronnellol, the woodsy-peppery-floral linalool. Then to complete the composition we have the clove aspect from eugenol, the slight ylang impression from benzyl salicylate and the hay-like depth from coumarin. Limonene, the essential building block of citrus elements, is also present, though I don’t generally consider that to be the main player at all; in fact, the traditional top notes are neither prominent nor emphasized.

Now I don’t know about you, but at this point the above-mentioned notes, in their respective positions, read modern French formal to me—emphasis on the word formal. Don’t get me wrong: like I have previously mentioned the composition integrity is commendable, style consistent with Ellena’s point of view. Yet what comes with its Gallic nature is an authentic air of reservation and formality, more of a silent masculine to Hiris feminine. Reserved, pensive. It’s not to suggest that Bois d’Iris is boring, with the narcissus-eugenol-coumarin axis giving off a slight wine-like nuance and the cedar forming a nice wine-cask resonance. Now I suspect Bois d'Iris knows how to enjoy life, but only tastefully in private.

Overall? Bois d’Iris is something I use from time to time in my own spare time, when I feel like losing myself in a long leisurely read. If I want my holy grail iris I will continue layering Hiris with Persicol.

Divine L'Homme Infini: fragrance review

"A gentleman is simply a patient wolf."
~Lana Turner

William Thackeray, who knew a thing or two about snobs, wrote in Vanity Fair: "Which of us can point out many [gentlemen] in his circle – men whose aims are generous, whose truth is constant, and not only constant in its kind, but elevated in its degree; whose want of meanness makes them simple; who can look the world squarely in the face with an equal manly sympathy for the great and the small?"

L'Homme Infini deeply appeals to my own ideal of nobility, in the sense of an ideal human being; not lineage, but the couth ways, effortless elegance and received wisdom that should go with it. From its suave green-citrusy vetiver core with sweet, cozy, nutty undertones, to its piquant smoky pepperiness, the fragrance reads like an paean to masculinity; reassuring and dependable, a shoulder to lean on in hardship and a handsome cheek to caress when things go awry and a wistful tear is forming.

Caspar David Friedrich. Abbey in the Oak Forest, 1810

Yvon Mouchel, founder of Parfums Divine, has employed one of the young mavericks emerging in this medium, Yann Vasnier (a Givaudan perfumer working among others for Arquiste, Tom Ford, Marc Jacobs, Comme des Garcons and Parfums DelRae). Vasnier has a history of creating outstanding men’s scents for Divine (L'homme de Coeur, from 2002, for one), and L’homme infini, his latest creation for the line, a nutty-smoky vetiver woody scent, manages to entice and deliver both in terms of intellectual artistic integrity and of pleasing the senses. With L’Homme Infini, Divine expresses the idea that man has an infinite horizon of life before him.

No claims to seismic originality, but high praise for the deft of execution for this one.

On skin (male as well as female) L'Homme Infini wears very much like a beloved piece of clothing you want to wear to tatters, the gorgeous patina of effervescent skies, tall silvery trees, their branches like peaks of gothic churches reaching for the skies, for the divine, geosmin and human warmth trailing on fabric; craggy stones and flint, coarsely grated spices and the spraying droplets bursting out of orange rind, and woods, woods, woods...echoing in the distance.
The promise of mysteries yet to be discovered, the adventure only now beginning.

Divine L’homme Infini notes: Coriander leaf and grain, elemi, black pepper, oak, cedar, agar wood, vetiver, amber, benzoin

Available from November 2012 at the e-boutique, all Divine boutiques in France and at Luckyscent, Liberty UK, The Perfume Shoppe, Oswald Parfumerie and AusLiebeDuft. Check the brand's website for more information: http://www.divine.fr

In the interests of disclosure I was sent sample vials by the company